The End
by Gracie
Summary: Chakotay reflects on Kathryn Janeway, his failures, and his new responsibility as captain of *Voyager*.


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AUTHOR: Gracie Kay

TITLE: The End

DISCLAIMER/SPOILERS: Not mine, never will be. Slight reference to "Coda," but you need not have seen the episode to understand this fic (confidentially, I've never seen "Coda," either. I want to, though!). 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I started writing fanfic with the firm resolution that I'd never, ever, ever imply character feelings that weren't _explicitly stated_ on the show. That ended with "Keeping Secrets." Then I resolved to never, ever, ever kill any of the characters, because as a mere fan I don't have the right to kill anybody. But now I post . . . (drumroll) . . . my first ever attempt at character death (maybe my last). Please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading my works. All reviews are appreciated!

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Chakotay held her hand a long time. Even after he released it, he stayed there in sickbay with her. The Doctor didn't object. Sitting there beside the bed, gazing at his captain's body, Chakotay realized just what kind of burden he now carried. He wondered if he could live up to the mammoth task of getting this ship and all its people home. But he decided that if she had borne the responsibility for seven years, eventually giving her life for her obligation, then he really had no choice. Even if he grew weary of the task, he would not renounce it. He would keep going. For Kathryn, if for no one else. 

__

****

"You have the bridge."

The words were spoken like they never had been before. She stood on the command deck, gazing at him with something different, new, haunting in her eyes. As though she knew something he didn't and hated herself for knowing. 

And then she collapsed.

****

She had lived those seven years, he now realized, far too alone. She had needed someone's support, more often than he had given it to her. Now he wondered if it was partly his fault that she had so exhausted herself—if maybe, had he come alongside her more often to force the responsibility from off her shoulders even when she fought to keep it there, maybe she might still be alive. 

****

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"Doctor, what's wrong with her? She was fine this morning."

"'Fine', Commander? You noticed nothing wrong with her?"

"Well—she seemed tired, but she's been looking a little worn lately. What is it? She just needs some rest for a few days, right?"

"I'm afraid that there's more to this than just . . . getting rest. The captain's worn herself out. At this point, even strict bed rest can't stop the deterioration of . . . of her body. Her heart's giving out. There's—there's not anything I can do for her."

It took several minutes for the words to sink in. After that, Chakotay just stared at him for several more. "You mean, she's—she's going to . . .?" He tried to make himself say it, but he couldn't.

For once in his life, the Doctor didn't have an answer. He didn't need one.

"No." 

"Commander—"

"No--!" His voice broke on the single syllable. "I don't believe it!"

In a world of dermal regenerators that erased burn scarring, of laser scalpels that could perform the most delicate surgery, of medical tricorders that could reveal internal injuries in just a few seconds—there was nothing to be done for a woman whose body was simply too tired to keep working? 

"How—how long does she have?"

"I don't know. I think you should go in and see her right now."

****

She should not have died this way. Chakotay had long worried about her welfare, long been troubled that she would get herself killed out here in the Delta Quadrant. But he had never envisioned it this way. He had pictured her death so many times it had become an obsession, especially those first weeks after the shuttle crash when she clinically died in his arms—when he held her tightly, tried to breathe life back into her broken body. He had pictured her throwing herself in front of a phaser beam to save one of her crewmen . . . perishing as a prisoner of war on some hostile planet when one of her diplomatic missions went awry . . . being rushed to sickbay, unable to be revived, after her console on the bridge exploded during a firefight . . . even being killed in a shuttle crash like the one they had experienced, far from medical help . . . 

He had never thought it would end like this. Quietly . . . simply . . . tragically. 

****

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"I have so many regrets," Kathryn murmured. "Don't make my mistakes, Chakotay. Be less a captain . . . more a . . . friend." He could see in the labored rise and fall of her chest that speech was severely draining her strength. 

"Rest, Kathryn. Tell me later."

"There is no later for me."

"No--you're too strong for this!" 

"Forgive me." She was blaming herself yet again, this time for her own death. He hated it but didn't have time to respond, as the convulsive gasps again wracked her slight body. Releasing the hand he'd been gripping so tightly, Chakotay beckoned the Doctor. 

"Forgive me," she whispered again as the biobed began to squeal with alarm and the Doctor scurried around, injecting her with hyposprays. 

"No, Kathryn. There's nothing to forgive. I--I never served under a finer person, and I never had a dearer friend than you." 

"Get them home, Chakotay."

"I will. I promise."

Her lips quirked into that endearing half-smile. "Thank-you." And then her eyes closed.

****

She should not have been alone in this duty. He wished he could console himself that he was with her in the end, but his absence in the beginning and so much in between was exceedingly greater a flaw than those last few minutes of support could atone for. 

And Chakotay cried.

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End file.
